


Five more minutes

by EBDaydreamer



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:12:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5976406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EBDaydreamer/pseuds/EBDaydreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluff set in the hopefully not to distant future. All Emma wants is a Sunday lie-in to enjoy the quiet moments. The universe seems to have other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five more minutes

One month. It’d been one month since the last villain attack and everyone was beginning to become on edge. People had begun to keep items that could be used in self defence nearby; just in case. Everyone was preparing for the next fight except one.

Emma Swan-Jones.

No, she intended to take her father’s advice and live in the moments. She planned to soak up _every single moment_ of the quiet. No extreme shifts at the station, no brushing aside Henry to work out how to defeat Storybrooke’s latest fiend. Emma adored spending more time with her family and friends, and the last time she had this much peace she’d been residing at the loft as opposed to her beautiful sea view home with her husband. However there was one problem: Killian.

She loved him and all his quirks, she really did (the war with modern technology was one she hoped never ended) but this particular one was very irritating. It made sense of course, but that doesn’t mean Emma wasn’t livid that Killian just _couldn’t seem to have a lie-in!_

It was understandable; working on a ship for 200 years would probably make anyone an early-riser, but that doesn’t mean she still can’t be pissed. After hours of begging for him to just let them stay in bed until noon at the weekends, he finally gave in and cuddled with her until near twelve. Once. Stupid morning people.

On this one particular Sunday morning Killian had crept out of bed as dawn broke and Emma had convinced him (with a lot of sleepy grumbles) to stay in for a few more hours. Currently, it was 10:30 and Emma turned over in her cold, half asleep state to curl into her furnace of a pirate, only to be met with empty sheets. He was up. Of _freaking_ course he was!

Grumbling, Emma wrapped herself up in the covers, cursing Killian. She’s mad? What do you mean she’s mad? She’s not mad. She’s _fine._ It’s not like she wanted to snuggle with her husband and be, y’know, a normal couple for once. Creaking and squeaking fills her ears as she realised that her sly pirate was meandering towards the dresser, clearly trying not to wake her.

Sneakily, she cracked open one eye and waited until he’d got whatever it was out the drawers and began to move towards the door. Once he’d turned his back on her she said, “Don’t even think about it.”

***

“Don’t even think about it.”

Killian inwardly cursed at getting caught, shifting slightly to face her and was met with Emma, propped up on her elbows in all her bed-headed glory, a stern yet sleepy look on her face. Guiltily, Killian smiled at her; he knew she loved her lie-ins, but he just couldn’t do it-he was far too use to getting up with the sun and doing something. “Sorry love,” he whispered, “but I was getting restless.”

He knew he was fighting a losing battle. He knew he was getting back in that bed whether he liked it or not.

“Killian Jones you get back in this bed right now or I-”

Cutting her off, he threw his shirt aside, unfastened his hook and hopped under the covers: he really could never say no to her. His Swan nestled herself into his chest as his arms came around her. “See?” she mumbled drowsily, “this isn’t so bad.”

“No Swan,” he sighed into her hair. His mind was reeling as he wondered why in hell’s name he was so fortunate to have her and the life they shared. Not the whole ‘what-is-today’s-threat?’ part, but the simple things like sharing meals, holding hands, walks out to the docks, sailing with Henry and so much more he didn’t have a mere few years ago (or decades if you’re counting the curse). Clutching her closer he breathed, “it’s bloody perfect.”

***

One hour.

Two inhumane sounds.

Eleven calls.

Twenty-three texts.

Countless yells from the street.

“Swan...” the pirate groaned, dragging himself out of his slumber, “I think some monsters are attacking the town-”

“Five more minutes.”

He didn’t argue.

(Her parents barged in ten minutes later anyway)

**Author's Note:**

> So that was something that had been floating around in my head for the past few days and was distracting me from writing a longer fic I’m working on. It was inspired by a piece of fan art I saw a while ago: http://pompeiiablaze.tumblr.com/post/120665541892/i-think-a-monster-is-attacking-the-town-five  
>  BTW this is my first time writing in this fandom so please don’t judge too harshly. I just really needed some CS fluff to prepare myself for what’s coming up: pain, feels, pain, emotions and did I mention pain?


End file.
